Morning Disputes
by miss selah
Summary: The morning after was. . . diabolical. And the night before? Well, let’s not even get in to that. [Nigel St. Nigel  Henry Spencer] [Pairing dubbed St. Henry]


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**MORNING DISPUTES**

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The birds were singing and the sun was shining. It was enough to wake Henry Spencer up, and enough to make Henry Spencer wish that he was dead. A thousand tiny irish men were doing a jig inside of his head, and no amount of temple rubbing was going to chase away this hangover.

Henry shook his head to clear it, and managed to somehow roll of his bed. Moaning, he rolled over on his back, only to have the sun shine in his eyes. Wisely, he rolled back on his belly. His eyes buried beneath his head, he could still hear the clinking of the empty beer bottles that he had knocked over in his tumble. _Something. . . something. . . _Something important, he just couldn't remember _what. _

"Oh, look at that; lazy, stupid American sleeping the morning away."

Henry's eyes shot open and he sat up quickly – too quickly – and immediately was cupping his head in his hands. "What happened?" He groaned through the agony of his hangover.

"Nothing much – I don't see why _your _tired, I did all the hard work." Nigel St. Nigel sat in his bed, sipping coffee and looking the devil like he was _pleased _with himself for something or another, and quite obviously without a hangover.

Henry Spencer was going to _kill _him.

"Is _that _coffee?" Henry groaned, eyeing it with suspicion. Nigel nodded and took another sip, smiling and making a pleased _hmm _sound. Like a kitten that had gotten some cream.

Like a kitten that was going to be _dead _soon.

"No food or drinks in my bed." Henry commanded, ignoring the tempting smell of the coffee. Just like Nigel ignored his command.

"I mean talk about anticlimatic. I can understand you not performing up to your. . . _usual _standards," Henry _thought _he heard Nigel mutter something like _dear god no one can be that bad ALL the time,_ but he couldn't be sure. After all, as far as he knew, Nigel St. Nigel _didn't _have a death wish. That was why he hired his son in the first place.

_Oh God! Where's Shawn!? _

He hadn't realized that he had voiced his question until Nigel laughed away his frantic attempts at gathering up pillows and blankets that were tossed haphazardly among the bottles in a mad-dash attempt to cover himself.

"I see you get dressed the same way you get naked; quickly and sloppily."

Henry scowled fiercly at Nigel, bareing his teeth almost animalistically. "Listen, pal, I don't need any of _your _sarcasm this morning, got it?"

"Well, you certainly were _begging _for it last night, fickle man."

Henry stood up quickly, lossing the pillows, and pointed a finger at Nigel, intending to argue. The man wanted to fight, fine: Henry Spencer was more than willing to accomadate him.

Nigel beat him to it. "Oh, I thought that you were just cold last night."

Turning a hideous shade of red, Henry pounced, fully intending to kick the living shit out of him.

"Well _someone's _frisky this morning, aren't you?"

"Listen you stupid Brit!" Henry glared down at him, fisting the robe as he pinned him to the bed. "It would bring me great pleasure to _kill you where you lay, _but I promised my son that I wouldn't. That does _not, _however, mean that I am going to just take your bullshit like everyone else around here does, _including _my good for nothing son." Henry gave him another push, and the cup Nigel was holding spilled and rolled, shattering on the hard wood floor with the tinkle of ceramics. Henry closed his eyes and counted very slowly to ten before he gritted out his next words. "And get _out of my robe." _

Nigel arched an eyebrow and grinned. "Oh, I see. Pin the stupid Brit down so you can have your way with him, eh? That's what happened last night, too, you know. You, drinking and drinking away and then finally I made _one eensy weensy _comment about your alcoholic problems and you just started _ripping _your robe off of me."

Henry snorted. "You're right; it is _my _robe, and I just. Want. It. Back."

"Really? That's not all you wanted last night. You know, despite my earlier comments on your performance, you did have _quite _the stamina. Very healthy for your age, has anyone told you that?" Nigel darted in and licked his chin and Henry physically recoiled, horrified by their present situation. Although, if what he was saying was true (and lord only knew _his _memory was nothing to go by) then he wasn't too horrified by it the night before.

"A bit like a jack rabbit, you know? Pounding, sort of really."

"Pounding, huh?" Henry nodded and did a three count. "You mean like the pounding your going to get if you don't shut yer trap and get your ass out of my robe this instant?"

"Don't tease me baby."

"That's it!" Henry began to pull on the robe, and when it gave, he toppled over the edge of the bed and on to the shattered cup, cutting his foot open.

Hopping on his uninjured foot and bleeding, a beer bottle caught beneath him and sent him toppling backwards, crashing to the hardwood floor.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Nigel St. Nigel leaning over him, shaking his head.

_You call that trying to disrobe somebody? Why, I've seen MONKEYs that have more finesse. I certainly hope you didn't think that did anything for _me, _mister. . . _

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End file.
